


Semper Fidelis

by adariel



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alpha Katsuki Yuuri, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Human Experimentation, M/M, Omega Verse, Omega Victor Nikiforov, Psychic Bond, Scent Marking, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Slow Burn, Time Skips, because i have a thing for psychological dramas/thrillers, loosely insp by stranger things legion and sense8
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-09 14:51:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8894878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adariel/pseuds/adariel
Summary: Katsuki Yuuri's life takes a sharp turn when he finds a strikingly beautiful boy standing in his backyard in nothing but a hospital gown and long, silver hair that reaches the small of his back. And it takes an even sharper turn when he falls in love with him./AKA that psychological thriller/abo dynamic experimentation/childhood sweethearts fic nobody ever asked for but got anyways ft. longhaired victor and side otayuri





	1. prologue ;

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first outlined story?? i actually have a plot in mind LOL what a concept!! lemme know what u think ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Astra inclinent, sed non obligant._

**&. Yurio**

_Subject 001 has escaped. Please initiate full lockdown and await further instruction._

The alarms are too loud. Each cry bounces off the walls and grates on the remaining fringes of his sanity. He can hear footsteps outside of his room, dozens of them, the rapid and military clip of heels in uniform step.

_(He knows where they're headed. He knows what they'll find.)_

Red light slips through the crack in his door and reflects off of his hands, which are tightly clenched together and shaking. He hates it: he hates the way his whole body convulses with some inexplicable emotion against his will. Not even his nails digging into the flesh of his palms can still it. He's powerless.

All of the doctors said that emotions were bad, that they would hurt him, and they're right. Whatever feeling is coursing through his bloodstream now hurts worse than the feeling of knives in his skin, of needles pressed into his veins.

He doesn't like it. He wants to scratch it off of his skin until his flesh is red and raw, and he would have if he thought it would do any good - and if his body wasn't paralyzed, whatever fluid they'd injected into him through his collar rendering his body useless.

Still, he can't stop his hands from shaking. Not even the medicine meant to keep him calm can ease the sting.

_(He'd been left behind.)_

Before he can dwell on that thought, he feels the telltale pinprick of a needle in his wrist, and shortly after his vision blurs over pleasantly. His hands have finally stopped shaking, he notices with a bit of relief. 

At least, he should feel relieved. But instead he feels a hollow emptiness in his chest, yet another emotion he has no name for - all of them equally bad for him. He can't name it, but he lets it roll over him in waves. It aches and pulls at his chest until there is no more feeling left in his limbs.

As the room darkens and the painful screech of the alarms becomes a dull thud against his ears, he can't help but try and reach out, his energy drained to just a few lingering fragments.

_(Please don't leave me.)_

But his plea is met with the bare silence of the hospital walls.

**&. Victor**

The snow is fragile as it kisses his skin. Tiny white flakes that hover on his numb skin and then disappear, melting through his fingers. He closes his fist around the snowflakes, but they melt nonetheless, just as fleeting as the next. As he opens his palm, cold water drips from his fingers into the snow beneath his bare feet. 

He doesn't have a name for the way his stomach seizes at the sight of them, but he holds onto it desperately. What it is is  _raw_ and real, more real than any of the stripped bare walls or probing needless. It hurts more than any physical pain could ever inflict, and he clings to that pain.

_(It reminds him that he is, indeed, alive._ _)_

The numbness is begin to creep up from his toes to his ankles, and a small part of him knows he shouldn't be exposed to the weather like this, but it's been far too long since he saw snow. This isn't the snow he remembers, but it's real enough to keep him rooted in place. 

He doesn't want to think about that sick game they played back in the cold place, the _real_  game, but it still plays on the fringes of his mind just like the annoying pinprick of dozens of needles. 

_"What is real?"_

_This_ , he thinks distantly. 

The thoughts are not his own and yet they belong to him: this is real. The snow melting in his hands, his hair, his skin, it's all distinctly real to him. He knows that much, that this feeling is just as real as the weight of the silver band around his wrist.

A weight that is now gone.

His wrist feels bare and cold. There is an angry hole in his skin just above the vein, and dried blood blacker than the night sky pools around. The skin is so much softer where the band was; it's tender and slightly swollen to the touch, and the area around is an angry purpling red.

_(He feels free. Like a bird released from a cramped cage.)_

He has nowhere and everywhere to go. He wants to run, to jump, and to fall. He wants to feel what it's like to trip and let the earth cushion his fall instead of the shiny metal floors of the cold place.

He wants to feel emotions.

He wants, he wants, and he wants. It is such a foreign feeling and yet he holds onto it tightly, afraid to lose such a complex feeling. If only he could hold onto this forever - 

The heavy weight of eyes on his back makes his blood run cold, and he is cruelly reminded that forever is a concept he is not permitted to have. Forever implies that he has the right to exist in such a fragile world, and it's been drilled into him that he's never had that sort of freedom.

He turns so slowly, yet too quickly. His outstretched hands fall back to his side, numb and dripping with melted snowflakes, but still clenched desperately - selfishly holding onto the feeling of freedom he'd held in his fingertips only moments before.

He expects to lock eyes with an expressionless mask: two black holes carved into a blank white face, and beady red lights pinning him where he stands. The same mask that always followed him around at the cold place, here to take him back, to strip him of these ugly emotions.

Instead, he finds a pair of real eyes - soft brown and stretched wide as if he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. But they are not embedded in a faceless sea of white metal, they are real just like the world around him. Fragile and beautiful.

_"Who are you?"_

 

 


	2. chapter i ;

There is something inexplicably relaxing about the snow. It falls from the sky in lazy circles, doing pirouettes through the sky until it joins its friends in a soft white blanket over the frozen earth, perfectly content until the sun rises to melt it away.

Snow this late in April is rare. The cherry blossoms on the tree outside his house have already bloomed from the warm week before, yet now they are coated in a layer of white, shivering from the breeze. 

It's almost lonely.

Yuuri probably shouldn't be outside this late - no, he definitely shouldn't. He can almost hear his mother's voice: _"You'll catch a cold, standing out in the snow!"_ , but he doesn't move.

He doesn't want to go back inside, because inevitably he'll find somebody still awake - his parents, Mari, Minako - and they'll pester him about the competition, about what had gotten into him, how he had made such a fool out of himself.

This is so much more simple. He can just focus on his breath clouding in front of him and forget the five years of practicing that he had let bubble down the drain in just one performance. 

_(He could still hear the silence that followed - it roared in his ears, deafeningly loud.)_

He should have tried harder. He shouldn't have let the anxiety and pressure tear apart his mind like it had. So many shoulds and shouldn'ts. Once he let the fear in, it repopulated over and over until there was no chance of escaping it.

"I disappointed them all," he whispered to the snow, watching his words leave in a giant white cloud. His hands gripped his jacket until they were numb. "It's all my fault."

Guilt. Blame. Humiliation.

Too many emotions were feeding into his mind at once; he wanted to scrub himself free of them until his mind was totally empty. Unshed tears burned his eyes and he wiped them away furiously, unwilling to let himself be so pathetic.

On the way home, they all said the same thing:  _Maybe next time._ As if there is any point in continuing in such a hopeless fascination, any reason to keep going on when there is no purpose behind it all.

He is forced to come to terms with his own weakness. And it stings, even now, when the rest of the city has fallen asleep and he is left alone in the cold, angry tears burning trails down his face and freezing on his lips.

_(He was crying like a child who didn't get what he wanted, and he felt like one, too.)_

His feet move him towards the edge of the woods outside his house, no longer at his command. He doesn't know where he's going, but he wants to be alone with the wind and snow; he wants to feel the cold that numbs his feet. 

In the distance, he sees somebody, and his feet stop dead in their tracks. Frustration dissipates into confused fear as he wipes his eyes and focuses. The woods behind his house have always been empty - there is nothing there but trees and dirt; and now, snow.

But there is definitely somebody there. Interrupting his perfect loneliness.

He creeps hesitantly closer, each step making a soft crunch in the gathered snow that splinters the silence around him. As he comes closer he can make out the shape of a child whose back is to him, a loose-fitting dress that barely reaches their knees fluttering in the slight breeze.

The most off-putting about this person is their hair, which nearly reaches the small of their back it's so long. It's a brilliant silver that could have been spun with moonlight, and it dances with the caress of the breeze, snowflakes clinging to the silken strands.

 _It's a girl_ , is Yuuri's first thought. The arch of the shoulders is too delicate, the legs too thin. The child's hair is also too long to be a boy's, as far as he knows.

A few more hesitant feet closer, and Yuuri can make out a pair of hands, stretched out to the sky to embrace the snowflakes as their make their elegant descent to the ground. As he watches, the frail hands close around the snowflakes in wonder, bringing them close to her chest.

Yuuri can't help but let a small gasp slip through his lips. The person in front of him is strikingly beautiful. He wants to reach out to her and lock her in a glass box, hide her from the rest of the world.

_(She is too delicate for an existence this harsh.)_

As soon as the thought crosses his mind, the girl's entire body stiffens as if struck, and she turns - painfully slowly, until finally a pair of eyes meet his - and they are impossibly more beautiful, a clear and vibrant blue that are filled with terror. 

The face is too sharp, too harsh to be a girl's face. Yuuri can see now the flatness of the child's chest as the wind pulls the gown close, and he can also see the skinniness of the boy, as if his body is sunken and hollow. He isn't exactly a child either, at least thirteen - _around my age,_  he registers distantly.

But there is so much fear in those eyes. The boy seems a half of a second away from fleeing, like a trapped animal searching for an escape. Even though his eyes never leave Yuuri's, he can tell the boy is searching for an escape, and just the thought of him disappearing makes Yuuri's blood run cold - 

" _Who are you?_ "

The question leaves his mouth in a gasp, desperate to hold onto the fragile thing he's found in the woods behind his house. It's such a silly question to ask and yet it burns at the back of his throat and now hovers between them, an invitation.

The boy regards him warily still, and for a brief moment his gaze flits to the house behind him before leaping back, dubious. His mouth parts as if to speak and Yuuri realizes he's holding his breath, but no words come out of the boy. 

"Can you speak?" He feels more confident now, if only because the boy hasn't run away, but he keeps his voice soft. Every word seems to hurt the boy in front of him - he flinches slightly when he speaks again, "I'm Yuuri. Katsuki Yuuri."

The frightened boy gives him a look that seems almost exasperated and Yuuri blinks, taken aback. He didn't expect such a charismatic response, and it leaves him reeling. The boy is still watching him closely, but more curious instead of terrified, as if he's decided Yuuri isn't a threat.

_(He should be relieved, but instead he feels slightly offended.)_

"Hey." His voice calls back the boy's attention, who blinks twice. "You're freezing."

It's true - he can see the tremors that roll through the boy's spine, the slight chatter of his teeth. If he squints he can see the flushed skin at his toes that's beginning to purple from the cold. If he stays out here too long, he'll get sick.

_(Yuuri's cold too, but he realizes it almost as an afterthought - he's too busy being enthralled by the feral boy in front of him.)_

At his words, the boy's eyes twinkle as if in amusement. _No way._  The sarcastic response seems to linger unspoken between them and Yuuri feels himself reeling backwards in defense as he narrows his eyes.

"Fine, if you don't want someplace warm to stay, then stay out here. Get pneumonia, for all I care - "

It happens too fast. One moment he's turning to plod back to his house, gather up his pride, and resign to his own bed, and the next a freezing cold hand wraps abruptly around his wrist, rooting him in place.

And _God_ , the boy's hand is cold. The kiss of the snowflakes has frozen them almost to the bone. 

Even so, the boy's hand trembles on Yuuri's skin, still ready to flee at any given moment. One mistake and the boy would disappear into the woods again. He knows that much.

"It wouldn't kill you to be a bit more honest," Yuuri mutters under his breath, glancing back to the boy who is staring at him with wide and fearful blue eyes.

They're so close now that it rips the breath right out of his chest: he can see little flecks of green and gold in the irises that draw him in until he's almost drowning in the vibrant hues. They're framed by delicate silver lashes that ghost over the pale skin of his cheeks, and Yuuri is struck by just how _beautiful_  this boy is. No wonder his mistook him for a girl.

Yuuri reaches out, and his movements are slow. The boy's eyes follow his every movement and he can feel him flinch when Yuuri rests a hand over the one gripping his wrist, but he doesn't pull away, and Yuuri counts that as a victory. The boy's eyes flit up to meet his again, searching, and Yuuri offers a small smile.

"C'mon, let's warm you up," he says, prying the fingers from his wrist. The grip suddenly becomes iron tight and the boy stares at him pleadingly. "What? You're coming, too. I can't leave you out here alone."

The boy stares at him for a few seconds dubiously, and Yuuri wonders if they'll have to stay out here all night, but then with a soft sigh the boy's grip loosens and he drops Yuuri's wrist obediently. His skin stings from the contact, but he finds himself missing it.

_(Perhaps that isn't the best thing to do. It's undoubtedly a dangerous thing to miss.)_

With that, he leads the boy back into the house, grabbing his duffel on the way in. His footsteps are hushed, silent, and he slides the door shut as quietly as possible behind him. In the background he can hear the buzz of the television and gentle snoring - Minako must be here, then. But she's asleep.

Sighing quietly in relief, he pulls the boy up the stairs, treading as softly as possible. Thankfully the boy does the same - or maybe he's so light that it makes no difference. He creaks open his room's door and nudges the boy into it before sliding back out into the hallway.

"I have to go tell Minako I'm home," he explains as the boy turns to him with confused blue eyes. It's still difficult to tear his own away. "Just stay in here, okay?"

He starts to ease the door shut, but before he can the boy's pale hand reaches out and grabs the door handle, using a surprising amount of strength to keep it open. Yuuri blinks in confusion at the horrified look in his eyes.

_(He hates that he put that there.)_

"Alright," Yuuri breathes quietly, thinking of an alternative. "Just don't leave this room, okay? You can change into some of my clothes in the duffel bag. I'll be back soon, I promise."

The boy stares emptily at him until Yuuri steps back, pressing a finger to his own lips with a quiet shush. The boy mimics the action curiously, his eyes crossing as he tries to look at his own finger to see if he's doing it right.

Yuuri's heart stutters, and he quickly pads downstairs before he does something stupid or has a heart attack. When he reaches the living room, Minako is wide awake and furiously typing on her phone. He gently knocks on the wall to get her attention.

"I'm home," he says quietly, and suddenly all of the guilt comes crashing down on him again as he remembers the competition; the falling, the humiliation, the fear.

He swallows hard as Minako glances over her shoulder at him, before leaping to her feet and grabbing him into a tight hug, smothering him.

"Yuuri, you're okay!"

Her voice is a bit too loud and he flinches a little, but lets himself be hugged. Unnecessary contact has always been something he disliked, but he can practically feel the anxiety rolling off of his old ballet instructor, as well as the alcohol. Drinking, again.

"Sorry I didn't call." Guilt pulls at the corners of his mind again as he bites his lip, pulling back. He couldn't bring himself to talk to anyone on the ride home - he was too embarassed over his crippling loss at the competition.

_("And, uh... here are the scores for Junior Division skater Katsuki Yuuri....")_

"No, no, don't worry. God, you're freezing, Yuuri, did you fall asleep in the snow?" Minako's voice shifts from gentle to stern, once again falling into her ballet instructor behavior that he's familiar with. It takes some of the edge off of his nerves. "Wait here, I'll make you some hot chocolate."

"I - " His decline dies on his tongue as he remembers the boy upstairs, and how cold he was, and Yuuri threads his fingers together as he nods instead. "That would be amazing, thank you. Um... is it okay if I drink it in my room? I'm really tired...."

And it's not a lie. He can feel exhaustion all the way down to the bones of his toes, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in his bed and forget this day ever happened. 

"Of course," Minako says as she moves into the kitchen and starts to brew the hot chocolate. "I'm not your mom, I can't tell you what to do."

"Mom...." He twists his hands together nervously as he thinks about his parents, who invested so much into his skating. "How is she? And Dad?"

"You've only been gone a day, Yuuri. They're fine." Minako laughs quietly as she casts a glance back to the bedrooms. "They were up late rewatching your program, though. They seemed exhausted."

Guilt. Once again it dragged its nails ruthlessly through his mind.

"Oh, don't get that look." Minako abandoned the hot chocolate, the sweet smell beginning to flood the kitchen as she rested her hands on his shoulders and stared at him sternly. "You had a bad day. Everyone has them. It isn't the end of the world."

The same thing everyone else said. But they hadn't been there - in his head, watching the ice become a blur of fear, a hole that tried to swallow him up. They didn't know how he had been paralyzed in the silence before his free skate. They had just seen him tripping over his heels and considered it a bad day.

It was so much worse.

"I know." He forces a smile as he meets her gaze, praying she doesn't say anything further. "I'll try harder next time."

_(And that is definitely a lie.)_

She stares at him a moment longer before the machine beeps and she nods, pulling away to leave Yuuri, who exhales in relief. When she turns back around, she hands him the steaming mug and gives him a smile.

"I know you will, Yuuri," she says, and it sounds almost like a threat to him. "You haven't let anyone down before, and you won't now."

He can't meet her eyes as he accepts the hot chocolate and immediately makes a beeline for his room. The air feels stifling, as if the walls are closing in on him. _Don't look at me like that._  There were so many expectations resting on his shoulders.

When he finally reaches his room it takes all his strength not to slam the door shut behind him as he leans on it, his breathing irregular and the mug shaking in his hands.

 _Don't think. Don't think._  How nice it would be to clear his brain of all the jumbled up thoughts that clutter it. If only he could close his eyes and forget - 

A soft cry on the other side of the room snaps him out of his head and he sees a thin figure curled up against his dresser, illuminated by the soft moonlight. A halo of silver hair frames his body and spills over the floor in his huddled up position, eyes screwed shut and body trembling with fear.

Yuuri completely forgot about him. And now he's scared him, again.

He puts down the hot chocolate and slowly moves towards the boy until he's only a foot away. Yuuri reaches out and gently lays a hand on his knee, and he flinches so hard his spine hits the dresser and makes the trophies on top fall to the floor. 

Those familiar blue eyes snap open, wide with fear and unseeing. He clearly doesn't register Yuuri in front of him - he sees somebody, or something else, and he's _terrified_  of it. His fingers claw at empty space and catch Yuuri's arms as he gently grabs the boy's shoulders, but he ignores the pain.

"Hey, calm down," he eases, struggling to keep his voice quiet. He doesn't know whether to be grateful or terrified of the silent screams leaving the boy's mouth as he shakes him slightly. "You're safe, okay? Just slow down and breathe. I won't hurt you."

Ragged breaths choke their way out of the boy's frail chest as his frantic gaze finally settles on Yuuri, still blown wide and succumbed to fear. Those eyes are too bright, too wide, but he doesn't dare look away until the boy's breathing finally settles from the strangled gasps and his body stops shaking. 

The boy's hands, which gripped Yuuri's arms so hard they drew blood, slowly release him and he wraps them around his own legs, hugging them close. Yuuri exhales quietly with relief as the boy buries his head in his own arms, and he's glad he managed to calm the boy down.

Desperate to calm him down, Yuuri prods gently, "Want to hear a joke?"

The boy's head lifts and his blue eyes are completely empty, dull. It frightens Yuuri, but he plows on, relieved he grabbed the boy's attention.

"Okay," Yuuri says, taking a deep breath as he tries to think of something. "Why do vampires believe everything you tell them?"

Yuuri watches as the boy frowns to himself for a moment before shrugging and looking up at him. _Go on,_  his eyes say, sparkling with newfound interest.

Well, now he's forgotten the punchline.

He's lost in the boy's eyes, which are stretched wide, the clear blue like pools of the sky, little fragments saved just for him. Yuuri bites his lip as he desperately tries to remember the joke, but it's completely lost and eventually he gives up.

"Uh...," Yuuri glances to the boy's inquiring eyes and gives a sheepish smile. " _Gomen..._ I actually forgot the answer."

The boy stares at him blankly before suddenly he buries his head in his arms again. Defeat crumples in Yuuri's chest, realizing he must have made it worse - leave it to him to do something idiotic. He stares helplessly at the boy only to realize his shoulders are shaking, and oh God, is he _crying_ -

A soft squeak comes from the boy's arms and then it comes out as a small giggle, one that dives straight into Yuuri's heart and practically rips it to shreds. It strikes him then that he's not crying but _laughing_ , and the relief is so immediate that he finds himself laughing quietly as well at his own stupidity.

For a blissful moment, in the dark of his room with this pale and skinny boy he found in his backyard wearing nothing but a hospital gown, Yuuri is able to forget about his anxiety and his defeat. 

_(And he wishes this moment could last forever.)_

_(But they never do.)_


	3. chapter ii ;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aequalitas per unitatem._

** &. Yurio**

He wakes up covered in sweat. Everything burns - his eyes, his wrists, his throat. He can't see anything, he doesn't know whether his eyes are opened or closed and he hates that, he hates being confused.

Because that's an emotion. And those are dangerous.

There is something white hot pressed to his exposed neck and it takes the remaining splinters of his energy to scream, his body arching upwards against the metal restraints digging into his skin. 

_(He can't breathe. He can't think. He can't see.)_

It seems to be a lifetime before the fire leaves his neck and he feels sore and raw and everything aches; bruises bloom around his bound wrists and ankles and the flesh on his neck is now charred and ugly. He can feel it - the number that's been forced into his flesh, like a branded cattle.

_003._

It's a part of him. It's everywhere - above his room, on his collar, in his files. He's constantly reminded of it whenever he goes to eat with the others and his number is engraved on his plate, his fork, his seat.

It's like a prison. But at least he's safe here. 

The brand burns, but he can already feel his consciousness slipping between his fingers as the drugs kick into his system - this time, he doesn't even feel the press of a needle into his flesh, so he must be getting used to it.

_"Thank you for your cooperation, 003."_

The automated woman's voice is familiar to him, and it eases his fears as he sinks further into unconsciousness, loosing sight of reality and dream.

_"Aequalitas per unitatem."_

_Equality through unity._  

It was drilled into them everyday and the phrase brings comfort, as his eyes finally close and he succumbs to the darkness. 

_(He wants to sleep forever. But wanting is bad.)_

* * *

Whispers of 001 seem to flood the halls. The wedge into every crack in the floor, every shadow brims with talk of his escape. He is even reminded of it through the metal now welded to the necks of every subject around him.

He is not the only one who received the branding, and it's smaller than he thought, barely the size of a quarter. It's not necessarily a brand either, but rather a shiny piece of silver welded into his flesh.

When he admires it in the reflection on his spoon, it's rather pretty. Sure, the skin around looks ill and abused, and it itches, and he has to keep an annoying disinfectant on it all the time. But it makes him feel like he belongs.

_(Why would anyone want to leave?)_

 His thoughts are silenced as the band on his wrist buzzes slightly, the vibration tickling the irritated skin from pulling at his bonds. He doesn't mind the bruises, because he deserves them.

16:35 : Assembly in Auditorium 8.

An unscheduled assembly. He can already feel the soft ripple of confusion around him, a hundred eyes falling to their own wrists as they read the electric green letters.

Assemblies never happen - but this one has been anticipated ever since that night. Just thinking about it sends chills down his spine and he tightens his hold on the metal spoon, the edges digging into his palm.

 _Deep breaths._  If he sets off his detector, the band around his wrist would earn him a one-way ticket back to the infirmary. He wants to avoid that place, because it almost always means needles.

He stands up along with the subjects around them, doesn't bother giving any of them so much as a glance as he places his tray and dull spoon in the container with his number engraved above it. 

Everyone is silent. They always are. Talking with other subjects is strictly forbidden. Talking is strictly forbidden.

When he turns around, he is immediately greeted with the sensation of being watched. It's abrupt and yet sneaks up on him at the same time, but it sends a feverish chill down his back nonetheless. He looks over his shoulder, but there are too many subjects crowded around him to tell.

The air hisses through his teeth in irritation as he plays with the band on his wrist, turning back around and stalking towards the assembly room. He submerges himself in the sea of them all until the feeling fades away and he can breathe again.

_"What is real?"_

It's his wrist band, speaking through the earpiece they all have. He lets out a quiet breath as he realizes his emotions set off the automatic response, but does as he's told and recounts what he knows.

_This place is real. I am real. I am safe. I am 003 and I am safe here. Aequalitas per unitatum._

There is a soft beep in his ear and the woman's voice returns, automated kindness filling his mind.

_"Thank you for your cooperation, 003. Aequalitas per unitatum."_

The sound clicks off and he stares at his feet, still ambling with the mass of subjects around him. He set off the automatic detector again, which means another mark on his profile. He would probably have another individual counseling scheduled this afternoon because of it.

It isn't as if he has anything better to do, anyways.

Once everyone has been seated in the large, echoing auditorium - the number 003 digging into his back - all eyes turn to the plain stage. A projector reflects the seal of the facility on the wall, and an ellipse makes an endless loop behind it, the arrow pointed in on itself.

It reminds him of a serpent eating it's own tail.

 _"Good afternoon."_  The voice booms around them and the hushed sounds of automated voiced falls silent and armbands click into darkness, powering down. _"We welcome you to this assembly. Aequalitas per unitatum."_

A dull murmur ripples through the crowd and he finds himself echoing it, the words making his nerves ease. As the announcer murmura over the speakers, he spots a figure moving to the center of the stage, with two armored men - Mugheads, as he calls them - at his side.

How weird. Usually the Mugheads are only used for emergency situations. They're nothing more than robots, which a smooth white head interrupted by gaping eye sockets and red lights flickering within them. That's where he got the name - they look like they have ceramic mugs for helmets.

It's humor.

He can almost physically touch the anxiety that ripples through the crowd, and before it has time to fully manifest, there's a slight prick in his wrist and the world softens. Calm washes over them all once more, hypnotic, and the person on the center of the stage finally stops walking.

Time hesitates, and a bold number writes itself across the screen behind the person's back. It imprints itself on the backs of his eyelids.

_"Please welcome our newest subject, number 001."_

_They replaced him -_

Before the thought even has time to fully manifest in his head, he hears the familiar buzz of his wristband. He looks down, expecting to see the usual welcome screen with green letters splayed on the surface, but instead it glows a faint red, which it's never done before. He taps the screen to see if it's malfunctioning (they sometimes do) but gets no response - when he looks to his side, none of the other subjects seem to have activated wristbands either.

 _"We have one more announcement,"_  the announcer says, and then the screen of his wristband lights up and displays his number in a blocky red. _"As of today, the first ten of the subjects will be relocated into the newest faction for a group examination."_

He's confused, and so are the subjects around them - it's like static that sets his hair on end and makes his skin crawl, sizzling between them all and in his ears.

 _"We thank you for your cooperation."_  The screen behind the new 001 blinks off and he feels something inserted into his wrist, the same prick of a needle injecting fluid into his bloodstream, but this time it doesn't calm him, it only terrifies him.

_"Aequalitas per obedientiam."_

The world falls apart under his feet, and he is falling, falling. He can only watch as the world grows small and tiny until he sees nothing but black, and he sinks it it willingly.

_Equality through obedience._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter because I will be uploading another tonight!! Lots of plot to make up for the upcoming fluff that might make your teeth rot :D


	4. chapter iii ;

_"What do you mean, there's a boy in your room?"_  Yuuko's voice on the other end of the call is confused, and tired. Undoubtedly he woke her up, but he's too anxious to care. _"Do you know him?"_

"No." Yuuri bites down on his lip anxiously as he glances over at the boy, only to find him with his arms over his head, struggling to pull off the hospital gown so he can change into the clothes Yuuri laid out for him. Yuuri feels inclined to look away, but can't. "I found him outside my house."

 _"And how did he get in it?"_  Yuuko sounds irritable, practically dragging answers from his sealed lips.

"He was alone outside, and it's freezing." Yuuri tried to justify welcomig some strange kid into his house earlier, but the best excuse he has is that it felt right. "He's wearing some kind of hospital gown."

 _"Jesus Christ, is he a basketcase?"_  Yuuko's voice is unnecessarily loud and Yuuri flinches. _"Did you seriously invite some head case into your house? He probably came from an insane asylum!"_

"Yuuko!" His cry was hissed through his teeth, and the boy glances over his shoulder at Yuuri questioningly. Yuuri barely manages a reassuring smile before Yuuko's chattering again.

 _"God, I have to tell Takeshi. What if he kills you in your sleep?"_  Her alarm is almost palpable, but it's misplaced. _"No, he could probably kill you when you're awake. What were you thinking?"_

"Calm down, Yuuko." He sighs as he leans back against his bed, sitting crisscrossed on the floor. "He isn't... that. I think he was abused... he has bruises all over his neck and wrists."

_"What if his abuser comes looking for him? You're an ice skater, not a wrestler. You don't stand a chance."_

Right. He's an ice skater, isn't he? He sighs and closes his eyes, begging for patience.

"You're very insulting when you're worried, Yuuko," he says, going for teasing even though it feels forced. He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling.

_"Do you even know his name?"_

Yuuri frowns. A name? He never even considered it, but now it seems stupid that he didn't. He lifts his head, about to ask when his gaze falls on the boy's half-exposed back, the hospital gown pulled almost to his shoulders.

Aside from the gown he's totally naked, and a pale scar reflects off of the moonlight and catches Yuuri's eye. It's stretched across the small of his back and interrupts the smooth, white skin in harsh and angry marks.

"Oh my God," Yuuri whispers, his voice choked as he realizes what it is.

 _001._  

The boy has been branded, as if he's little more than a piece of livestock. Just seeing it makes anger bubble up in his stomach, fierce and abrupt. His vision bleeds red as he imagines some wretch shoving a red-hot piece of metal to the boy's back - 

 _"Yuuri! What's going on?"_  Yuuko is almost screaming on the other end, and when Yuuri returns to his senses, the boy has the gown completely removed and his long hair falls back over the scar, hiding it from view. He looks over at Yuuri curiously at the loud screeches coming from his phone.

"Everything is fine," he says quietly, both to Yuuko and him. The boy's blue gaze finally shifts to the cellphone in his hands and he blinks before suddenly moving closer and getting on his knees right in front of him. "What - "

With deft fingers, the boy reaches out, his hand brushing Yuuri's hair. He's so close that there's no room to breathe for fear of shattering the fragile person in front of him, with his birdlike bones that strain against his snowy skin.

Suddenly, those fingers curl around his phone and pluck it right out of his hand. The boy rolls back on his heels - still blatantly naked - and the soft light from the phone illuminates his face, a picture of Yuuko staring back at him. She's smiling, her arms wrapped around a small brown poodle held close to her chest, the sun setting behind ner.

The boy's eyes widen a fraction and his finger reaches for the screen, hovering over the poodle in her arms as if yearning to touch it. Before his fingers can brush the screen, Yuuko's angry voice cuts through the awed silence -

_"I'm calling the police, Katsuki Yuuri!"_

The boy flinches so hard that the phone falls from his hands and hits the floor. Before Yuuri can retrieve it, he's grabbing the phone and throwing it at the wall, which it hits with a distinct thud before falling to the ground, the screen face down.

Yuuri's gaze shifts from the phone to the boy, who looks once again like a caged animal, eyes flashing as he backs away from the device. He looks like it's going to lash out at him in any given moment. The fear in the air is almost palpable.

"What's wrong?" Yuuri's voice is soft, but he's practically begging - he knows too little. "I want to help, but I can't if you don't tell me what's wrong."

The boy's frightened gaze finally lifts to meet his, and a battle seems to wage in them before he lifts a fragile, shaking finger and taps it against the side of his wrist.

Yuuri blinks before crawling forward, only for the boy to watch him with alarmed eyes.

"Can I...?"

The question hovers between them for a half of a minute before the boy seems to decide and nods, relaxing and letting Yuuri reach out and brush his fingers over the side of his arm and gently hold him by the elbow. The boy shivers under his touch, flinching as his finger skims over raised flesh.

Yuuri squints and moves closer, only to come face to face with a gruesome hole on the inside of his wrist, just over the thin blue vein. Dried blood is crusted around it, the flow having long since stemmed off. The area around it is red and tender, and more exploration leads to him finding a bruise circled all the way around his wrist, as if...

As if he had been wearing some kind of metal wristband. One that was used to inject things into his bloodstream.

Nausea coils in the pit of his stomach and he leans back, only to find the boy watching him with eyes brimming with fear. Yuuri feels his resolve crumble and before he knows what he's doing, he rests his hand on the boy's head and strokes his hair gently, desperate to comfort him.

_(Part of him felt like this was wrong, like he should be afraid, but every time he looked into those wide blue eyes, he was lost again.)_

The boy flinches slightly under his hand, but almost immediately after he leans into Yuuri's touch with a soft noise that sounds almost like a whimper. Yuuri's heart almost collapses as he runs his fingers through the silver strands, admiring how soft they are, just like he assumed when he first saw him. The happy noises spilling from his throat are too much.

Yuuri's hand hesitates, and two blue eyes open to gaze up at him almost longingly. It takes all of his resolve to pull his hand away, especially at the little frown that graces the boy's lips.

"You... need to get dressed." Yuuri's face flames when he remembers how naked the boy is, and even more so when he registers how close they are. The boy is practically radiating heat now and Yuuri has to quickly backpedal before he loses his sanity.

Reaching into his duffel, he tosses some clothes to the boy and quickly turns back to rearrange the medals that fell from his dresser. After a moment he hears the rustle of clothes and he breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

Memories of Yuuko's words fill his mind without his permission, from when both of them were hiding behind the desk where the skates were and speaking in hushed words - 

_"He hugged me!" Her voice was barely more than an excited squeal as she shook Yuuri's shoulders, a huge smile on her face. "I couldn't breathe! My heart was doing jumping jacks the whole time, he probably heard it."_

_"Takeshi?" Yuuri blinked at her dazedly. Takeshi had hugged him a bunch of times and he felt fine. "Are you sick?"_

_"Lovesick!" Yuuko did a happy wiggle as she grabbed Yuuri's hands and shook them excitedly. "I bet we're going to get married and adopt a hundred poodles. I'll even name one after you, Yuuri!"_

Yuuri frowns to himself as he holds the medal from his home rink competition, fingers skimming the edges. At the time, he thought Yuuko had finally lost her mind, but now he can feel it: the rapid flutter of his heart, the dizziness.

But it makes no sense.

After a while, he turns around and finds the boy, thankfully, fully clothed. He's crouched next to something, and Yuuri realizes with a strike of terror that it's his phone. _Please don't throw it again -_

Yuuri breathes out a sigh of relief when no intention is shown to chuck it at a wall, but he remains wary as he leans against his dresser and watches the boy interact with the phone, pressing random buttons and squinting. After a moment he opens up his photo album, and Yuuri can't help but feel proud that he managed to figure that out.

But his breath catches when a picture of the poodle Yuuko was holding lights up the boy's face. As if sensing his pain, the boy looks over at Yuuri with questioning eyes. Yuuri hesitates before moving to sit on his knees next to him, pulling the phone from his hands and staring wistfully at the photo.

"I took this a week before he died," Yuuri says, more to himself than the person next to him. His thumb hovers over the poodle's soft brown eyes. "He looks so alive, right? That's the irony."

He was so lively, so energetic. He had so much time ahead of him and yet it had been ripped away and torn to shreds, tossed mercilessly at Yuuri's feet in the blink of an eye. The emptiness at the end of the leash, the scream of car wheels on slippery wet pavement, and a hollow bark were all it took for his purpose to be stolen from before his eyes.

A soft touch on the side of his face makes Yuuri glance up to see an anxious pair of eyes watching him. The boy has his fingers pressed to the corner of Yuuri's lip, and he realizes he's frowning.

"Sorry," Yuuri says against his finger as the boy pulls away, glancing at his fingers. "I get really emotional."

The boy flinches almost imperceptibly before looking back to his phone. He touches the corner of the screen questioningly and Yuuri laughs quietly.

"His name was Victor," he explains. Even just saying the name makes his chest hurt, but he doesn't expect to see the boy's face fall apart at the name - it's only for a split second, but there's haunted look to his blue eyes that cling to him even afterwards that leaves Yuuri reeling.

"Victor," the boy whispers. His voice is unbelievably quiet, and Yuuri swears he imagined it, but then he says it again more confidently. "Victor."

And then he presses a finger to his sternum and holds it there, meeting Yuuri's eyes. He can only stare at the boy before a slight frown curves at his mouth again.

"Is that your name?" By what crazy coincidence could the boy he rescued outside of his house have the same name as his dead dog? The word _reincarnation_  dares to cross his youthful and naive mind but it quickly fades, they are nothing alike.

The boy nods slightly and taps his finger on his chest again insistently. "Victor."

"Isn't it a little narcissistic for your first words to me to be your own name?" Yuuri can't help himself from laughing, and it's ridiculous that he's laughing when he's moments away from crying, but it bubbles up in his chest, and he's too tired to fight it. "Victor, then."

The boy - _Victor_  - stares at him curiously before his lip twitches hesitantly, and then he has a shy little smile of his own that makes Yuuri's heart yearn to leap from his chest.

Victor's eyes shine as he suddenly wraps his arms around Yuuri's neck and hugs him, and his arms are warm and soft, his breath billowing into his shirt in the most calming way. The tears come then, hot and fierce, and without warning or explanation. He lets them fall, but neither of them mention it.

There is something enthralling about the way Victor smells. Underneath the hospital smell, there is a thick smell that is almost like sweat, but it is distinctly his and it calms Yuuri's frazzled nerves. He buries his nose in Victor's neck almost subconsciously, until he feels a happy hum rumbling in the other's chest.

_(And he feels like he's finally found home in somebody else's arms.)_

The phone suddenly buzzes in Yuuri's hand, making them both jump in surprise, and when Yuuri glances at him, Victor's eyes flash with terror before it recedes and is replaced with something like frustration. He lets his gaze linger before turning back to the phone.

 _Yuuko._  He completely forgot.

He answers with the heavy weight of trepidation settled at the bottom of his gut. As soon as he does, Yuuko practically screams into his ear:

_"If you hurt my friend, you creepy basketcase, I'll give you hell!"_

"Woah, calm down, Yuu-chan," Yuuri eases, hoping the nickname will placate her as Victor creeps backwards worriedly. "Everything's fine. We just had a little dilemma."

 _"You're kidding me, right?"_  Yuuko sounds on the edge of panic. _"Yuuri, I was literally seconds away from calling the police. If it wasn't for Takeshi, the entire army would be on your doorstep. Just so you know."_

"Thanks, Yuuko," Yuuri says quietly, his voice soft. Even though she's loud, he knows Yuuko cares about him, and he feels bad for not contacting her after Victor freaked out. "I'm fine. Victor just got scared from you yelling and attacked my phone."

The line is silent for a solid sixty seconds and it takes that long before Yuuri realizes his mistake. And it's too late by then.

 _"Victor? As in, your poodle?"_  Yuuko is once again panicking. _"Oh, God, did he give you his crazy? You know what, forget it. I'm calling the police, I don't care what you or Takeshi said - "_

"No, no, no! That's his name, Yuuko," he hisses insistently, clutching his phone with both hands to keep from yelling in case he wakes up his parents or sister or Minako. "Just calm down. I can explain everything tomorrow, but I'm really tired and I just want to sleep for now, okay? I'm safe."

_"You know I don't believe you."_

"Yeah."

_"You know I'll stay up all night worrying anyways."_

"Please don't," he begs. "I promise I'll be okay. Victor wouldn't hurt a fly. Just trust me on this, right?"

There's a prolonged silence and Yuuri is holding his breath. He can practically hear the wheels turning in her head when she doesn't respond.

"Yuu-chan?" he prompts hopefully.

 _"It's weird hearing you call him Victor,"_  she says finally. _"Really weird."_

"I know," he says, practically sinking through the floor from the weight of his relief. "I know. Thank you, Yuuko. I'll tell you everything at the rink tomorrow. First thing."

 _"Fine. Whatever."_  Her voice sounds forcibly stern, but he can tell she's giving in. _"Oh, and Yuuri?"_

"Mm?"

 _"I'm glad you're feeling better."_  Her voice is gentler now. _"You looked really upset earlier. It's not like you to get that down."_

"Thanks, Yuuko," he replies, fiddling with his sock tiredly.

_"No problem. See you tomorrow?"_

"Of course," he assures her.

 _"Bring the basketcase,"_  she adds as an afterthought. The nickname makes Yuuri frown, but at least she isn't freaking out anymore. _"I need to judge him for myself."_

"Okay, Yuuko," he says again, yawning. "Night."

 _"Night!"_  She hangs up, her cheery goodbye still hovering in the air. Yuuri drops the phone in his lap tiredly and glances over at Victor, who has moved to fiddle with the shiny trophies on his desk.

"Victor," Yuuri calls out, catching his attention. "You can sleep in my bed, alright? I'll sleep on the floor. Kick me if you need me."

Victor blinks at him before looking at the bed just as confusedly.

 _Please tell me he at least knows what a bed is for._  

Fortunately, Victor seems to come to a conclusion and he puts the trophy down, scooting under the blankets that almost swallow him whole. He completely covers himself from head to toe before popping his head out to search for Yuuri almost desperately.

"I haven't even moved," Yuuri assures him, though a gentle smile tugs at his lips at the action. It feels undeniably good to have somebody relying on him for once. Victor gives a pleased hum before snuggling back under the blankets, completely submerged.

Yuuri sighs to himself as he pulls out a futon from his closet and climbs into it, exhaustion trickling into his bones. He can hear soft little snores coming from his bed, and the sound calms him down until sleep wraps around him and pulls him into its ungrateful grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated earlier than expected because I took too many allergy meds and I might be falling asleep as I type. Enjoy and please give feedback! The comments I've received so far make me smile everytime I read them. <3
> 
> Also, I didn't mentioned it earlier but feel free to hmu @ thanks4thememeories.tumblr.com! I'd love to rage over YoI literally anyday, especially with the impending finale ;-; Thanks!


	5. chapter iv ;

"Careful!"

His warning echoes across the rink, but it's too late, and Yuuri can only wince as he watches Victor collide with the wall, falling to his knees. He skates over as quickly as his legs can take him, crouching beside Victor and inspecting him for injuries.

When he's deemed that there's no harm - except maybe a wounded ego, judging by the sour look on Victor's face - Yuuri offers a small smile and holds his hand out so Victor can stand up again.

"I hit the same wall three days ago," Yuuri admits, as if it's somehow supposed to get rid of the crestfallen look on Victor's face. When it doesn't work, Yuuri bites his lip thoughtfully. "I'm pretty sure the wall's in more pain than you."

Oh. _That_ isn't a very friendly expression.

The nasty scowl on Victor's face shuts him up and instead he tugs Victor towards the center of the rink, rather than letting Victor cling to the walls. 

Victor tries to tug free, staring at the vast, open ice like it's going to surge forward and eat him, but Yuuri maintains his hold on both of Victor's hands.

"You'll be safe, don't worry!" Yuuri stops himself and Victor stops as well, though he still unsteadily stares at the ice under their skates. "Look, the worst than can happen is you fall on your bum and can't stand up on your own. It's better than playing human ping pong in the corners!"

Victor stops sizing up the ice under them to look up at Yuuri uncertainly, before looking back to the walls. Yuuri already knows what he's feeling - he yearns for the safety and stability that the wall offers, something to hold onto in case the ice gives out underneath them.

"You can't be afraid of the ice." His old coach's voice rings in his mind as he echoes the same words to Victor with confidence. "It's like a bird being afraid of the sky. You'll never take flight if you don't trust the wind to hold you up."

For a moment, Victor has a wistful look in his eyes, before he snaps out of it and nods slightly. Yuuri beams and spins them around once in his joy, even though Victor is gripping his wrists with bone-crushing strength the whole time.

"You can trust me, Victor!" he sings, before coming to a halt again and starting to release Victor's arms. Victor tenses before grabbing at Yuuri desperately. "Here, just hold my hands. I'll lead you around for a little."

Victor obliges, his small hands fitting in between Yuuri's. He can't help but marvel at how cold they are still, as if the snowflakes from the night before have sunken into his bloodstream and chilled it. It's a miracle Victor isn't sick.

"Move your feet with mine. I'll take one step back and you take one step forward." 

Victor nods, his eyes glued to Yuuri's skates. He pulls one foot back and Victor follows suit, though he's unsteady and walks a bit too heavily. Still, it's progress, and Yuuri can't help but smile as they fall into a slow rhythm where he skates back and Victor chases his toes with his own steps, making slow loops around the middle of the rink.

Eventually Victor's eyes leave his skates to meet Yuuri's, wide and sparkling with some unnamed emotion. The breath leaves Yuuri's body in one instant at how beautiful they are - he's always loved the way the sun lights up Ice Castle in the morning, but to see that light haloing around Victor...

_(He looks like some kind of angel without wings.)_

The illusion shatters as the world suddenly dips beneath him, and in a split second his back hits the ice with a dull thud, the wind knocked out of his lungs immediately. He just barely saves himself from a concussion, but the wind is ripped out of his chest a second time when Victor falls on top of him as well, their skates clunking against each other. 

Victor's hands splay to catch his fall but he only manages to press down on Yuuri's chest before he makes impact. Fortunately, the fall wasn't too hard since they're both young, but it knocks them breathless none the less, and for a moment they can only lie there and catch their breath, still staring at each other - 

And then they're laughing, genuinely laughing. It starts with a quiet snort from Yuuri that Victor echoes with a small, airy giggle, and then his whole body seems to shake from the effort it takes to laugh in short, emphatic cries. It's an inexperienced laugh, as if he isn't sure what to do with it, and the thought makes Yuuri's heart clench, but it loosens when he realizes it was him who made him laugh after all.

"Yuuri? Are you in here?" Yuuko's loud voice cuts through the laughter and before Yuuri can sit up, Victor has fled several feet back, frantically searching for the source of the call.

Well. All good things have to come to an end, he supposed. Struggling to his feet and offering his hands to Victor to help him to his own, Yuuri calls out to her - "Yep!"

The rink is blissfully empty, and it's because he came here before opening hours. He, Yuuko, and Takeshi always do that, since the Nishigoris own Ice Castle anyways. Yuuri just came earlier so he could show Victor around.

Yuuko finally comes into view, with Takeshi trailing behind and rubbing sleep from his eyes. Unlike him, Yuuko is wide awake and practically lights up the room with the energy sizzling off of her skin - and Victor picks up on it, moving closer to Yuuri and grabbing his hand on instinct.

Still cold.

"You brought the - you brought him," she says, and Yuuri is grateful that she bites the word _basketcase._ While Yuuko is kind, she has a bad habit of saying the first thing to cross her mind. 

"This is Victor," he introduces, not missing the way she flinches. He glances over to Victor, who still cowers slightly behind him. "Victor, this is Yuuko, and the one who fell asleep tying his skates is Takeshi. They're my friends."

"Did not!" Takeshi's protest is followed by a thud before Yuuko finally ties her skates and joins Yuuri on the rink, her arms crossed. Takeshi trails behind her, rubbing his face sorely. "I don't like waking up early."

"You're a skater, you've been waking up early since you were five," Yuuko says with a small giggle, which eases the tension just a little bit. Victor peers out at them a little less hesitantly, and for a moment Yuuri lets himself relax before Yuuko turns back to him with that look in her eyes.

"So," she says, drawing the word out for a long breath, "this is him."

Despite the tension in the air, Yuuri finds himself smiling just a bit as he nods, pulling Victor out from behind his back and into full view. 

"Yep!" Yuuri knows she's searching for an explanation, the way he always knows, but he ignores it. "He doesn't talk much."

Characteristically, Victor is silent beside him. It's stifling, how long the silence streches, before finally Takeshi breaks it with one word:

"Cool."

It isn't spoken uncomfortably or to fill the gap, it's just Takeshi shrugging it off and fitting his characteristic wide smile on his face as he skates over and slings an arm around Yuuri, poking him in the stomach.

"So, where'd you find him?" Takeshi is still grinning too wide. "Or did you get lost and he found you?"

"I didn't get lost!" Yuuri bristles as he swats Takeshi's hand away, but he can't fight a smile. "He was outside of my house, if anything he looked lost. And it was freezing, so I invited him in."

Takeshi wiggles his eyebrows, but Yuuko still doesn't look amused as she squints at Yuuri and Victor. Fortunately, Takeshi's easygoing nature seems to have eased her worry. He's always been a little jealous - they get along so well, and Yuuko obviously admires him. They balance each other, and he's just along for the ride.

"Do your parents know?"

And suddenly the elephant is in the room. Yuuko's eyes narrow as Yuuri fumbles for a response before shaking his head.

"It's only been a night!" His voice sounds too defensive for his own liking but he stifles it in favor of glancing at Victor, who stares back owlishly. "I plan to tell them today. It's just...."

"You think they'll try to send him away." Yuuko sounds almost accusing, and just like that the tension has returned.

Beside him, Victor seems to visibly flinch at the idea. Which only solidifies Yuuri's fears as he turns to Yuuko with desperate eyes.

"Look at him, Yuu-chan," he begs. "He's half-starved and covered in bruises. Wherever he was before, he wasn't getting taken care of well at all."

"Do you think you can take better care of him?" Yuuko's voice rises almost challengingly and he flinches, even though she's right. "We're only thirteen, Yuuri! Your mom is going to be furious if she finds out, and you can't keep him a secret forever!"

Victor is shying away from her shouts, every word seeming to pierce him, and it only makes Yuuri more defensive as he rises forward and meets her gaze.

"I know!" His voice comes out as a shout that seems to stun both Yuuko and Takeshi. "But I can't let him go back! They hurt him!"

After just a few seconds his chest is heaving, his hand wrapped too tightly around Victor's. Takeshi seems stunned and Yuuko is staring at him like she doesn't even recognize him, and he can only imagine the terror in Victor's eyes even though he isn't pulling away.

It's Yuuko who finally speaks again.

"What's gotten into you?" Her voice is soft, but angry. "Have you even asked him what he wants? You're treating him like a wild animal. He isn't yours to protect, he isn't your responsibility."

Yuuri can feel the anger slipping out of his reach, spiraling down the drain as he realizes what he's doing. Panic flutters in his chest as he releases Victor's hand and stares at his own.

"Regardless of where he's from, you still have to tell somebody, an adult," Yuuko presses on. "You can't just hide him in your room forever, y'know?"

"I know," he says again, this time softer. Yuuko seems to understand then and she offers a small smile.

"Why don't we tell her now?" The suggestion makes Yuuri's head snap up in horror. "I mean, after practice. I'm sure they won't have a problem with Victor staying over for a while until things get settled, right?"

Yuuri can feel his anxiety rising in his chest - this time not for himself, but the person behind him. He glances over at Victor and something pulls at his heart as he sees him staring off in the distance, not paying attention.

He doesn't want to let him go. He doesn't want to think of him even going near the place he was before.

But Yuuko's right. He doesn't own Victor. 

Yuuri turns back to her with a shaky smile. "Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter chapter, but I will definitely release one more tonight - maybe even two. If I have the energy. Which I might, because the anxiety of the season finale being forced onto me. :) 
> 
> Let me know what you think! All of the comments I get warm my cold, dead heart. They also warm small Victor's, he says thank you <3


	6. chapter v ;

**&. Yurio**

He wakes up with a sensation akin to what it must feeling to have one's head cave in on itself - his body is sore, no, it _aches_  with every breath he takes. Just opening his eyes makes the world dip and spin around him, and for a moment he can only hold his breath and watch a myriad of colors dance somewhere between reality and his eyes.

He is so tired. Exhaustion pulls every muscle in his body taut, like a rubber band a hairsbreadth away from snapping. 

The room he's in is dark, which is nice, at least for now. But it makes him feel even more disoriented, like he hasn't got a firm grip on what's real and what isn't.

He's hot. Every pore on his body seems to release sweat that runs slick up every inch of his body, drips down his chin onto the bed below him. It takes all of his energy to lift his hand and wipe at his brow, and it isn't until he's done so that he realizes - 

He isn't strapped down.

Usually, such an action would result in the harsh tug of metal and leather biting into his sore skin, but his wrist meets no such restriction. In the drunken haze of pain he is able to register this much, this freedom.

He hates it.

He hates the feeling of not being held down. There is nothing to ground him or hold him in place, there is nothing real. The room is suddenly suffocating as his lungs gasp for air, heaving, yet he feels like they're filled with cotton and glue.

_(What is real?)_

He doesn't know, he doesn't know anymore. Reality is the pain in his chest, the sweat dripping down his face, but this is all physical. There is no security, no safety here. His hand falls to his side and claws at the sheets under him, straining for something to hold onto.

_"...su... display... initi... shut down... stan... ins...."_

There is somebody there, he can feel their prescence, but it's like he's met with a glass wall. A muffled voice reaches his ears but it is like he is trying to hear with his head submerged in water.

He reaches out, and his fingers just barely graze cool ceramic before he feels the all-too-familiar slide of a needle into his wrist and his whole body goes limp like a ragdoll.

_(What is real?)_

He doesn't know. And he doesn't want to know.

* * *

He is in small, cramped room when he wakes up.

He knows this room. The wood along the walls is scarred with his fingernails and the ground beneath him is a familiar cold. He can see his breath in front of him, and no matter how tightly he curls in on himself, he can't shake off the sense of nausea in his stomach.

He feels a wave of confusion - he is certain he's never been in this place before, but his body knows. He reaches out and runs a finger along the ancient wooden door, feels the deep scratches that he put there.

When?

His thoughts are interrupted by muffled voice on the other side of the door, footsteps rumbling over his head. As the people above him walk, dust and other debris rain down from the ceiling and he almost chokes when he looks up.

This place is small. He wants to get out. _Let me out, let me out of here._  His heartbeat drums in his ears, loud and insistent.

He reaches out, his fingers scrabbling for a doorknob, but he only finds more wood, and a wall. _No doorknob._

He's trapped.

His instinctual reaction to flee is kicked into overdrive as he stares through the blue darkness at the handle-less door, his chest heaving with the promise of stress. He doesn't know where he is or why he's there, all he knows is that he wants out.

There are people. On the other side of the door. If he can reach them -

His body moves on its own: fists barrel against the door until it rattles on its hinges, a hoarse scream rips out of his throat. He's screaming for help.

_(These people won't help me.)_

The thought stills his fists for a few seconds as he strains to listen, and the house is silent. The footsteps above him still and theres a few murmurs before he hears a slurred chuckle that rumbles the ground above him. The footsteps resume.

Of course they won't save him. They never do.

_They put him here._

He curls his knees to his chest with his back against the door, staring into the space in front of him and seeing nothing at all. It's always _dark_  in here, and he hates the dark more than he hates being stuck - 

A low creak comes from somewhere in the darkness, and in the silence that follows it seems to be almost defeaning in comparison.

There's another soft creak and the sound of shuffling before light spills into the room - just a crack, but before he can help himself he's reaching for it, and the silver light bathes his small hands - too small. 

They look weak. Broken. Angry splinters from the wood have lodged themselves into his nails, and bruises line his wrists.

A breeze passes through the room, and when he looks up he locks eyes with a total stranger.

 _(Not a stranger.)_  

The stranger smiles a kind smile that makes his eyes sparkle like the stars. He can't breathe, he can't think.

 _He knows this person._  Who is he?

"I figured I would find you here," the stranger says. His words are sad, unlike his eyes.

He could get lost in those eyes. They're dark, like chocolate, but with a hint of red pepper. He remembers being told about a sauce called mole, which is like spicy chocolate, and that's what his eyes are like. The moonlight washes them silver, though.

He pulls his hand back out of the light, trying to hide himself in the shadows. He's afraid of the person in front of him - or, rather, of the people who likely lurk behind him.

This person isn't supposed to be here. It's _his_  room. Nobody else deserves this wretched place.

"Don't worry," the stranger says in a quieter voice as he brings a finger to his lips, like he's going to tell a secret. He can't help but lean closer, straining - 

"I'm here to sneak you out." 

The stranger's eyes flash and he looks a lot older. He isn't very old to begin with, maybe eight if he's being generous. But he has a small curve to his smile that makes it feel old. 

The stranger holds out a hand to him, and it's so much prettier than his own - smooth, unmarred with splinters and pale in the moonlight. He looks like an angel.

_(My angel.)_

"Yuri," his angel prompts. "That's your name, right?"

_That's not my name. I'm 003, not -_

The world freezes. He can't breathe, the name swallows him like the darkness surrounding him. It sings in his blood, it calls out to him, and he can't fight against it.

The look in his eyes must be enough of an answer, because his angel smiles then, and it's blinding - all teeth that flash in the dim light. He can't tear his eyes away; he wants to imprint that smile on his memory for the rest of his days. He wants to lock it away just like they locked him away.

"He said you'd be here," his angel continues, and he wants to ask, _who_ , but doesn't have the chance or the air. "If you come with me, I can show you the sky. You've always wanted to see the stars, right?"

_That's stupid -_

"Yes," he whispers, and his voice is not is own. It is too young, too quiet, and absolutely _desperate_. It scratches from screaming, but it is his own voice, if only in timber. He can't look away from his angel as he says again, softer, " _yes_."

His angel slides down from the chair beneath his window and crouches in front of him, gathering his scarred, broken hands into his own soft and beautiful ones. His touch is gentle, kind, just like his eyes.

"Come with me, Yuri," his angel says, almost pleading. "I can show you all of the stars out there. We can even make our own."

_Making stars? Impossible._

The idea is ridiculous. But he still can't tear his gaze away from this beautiful monster, so instead he gives a small nod and allows himself to be pulled up on tired legs. He nearly collapses, but an arm catches him by the shoulders and holds him up straight. 

He looks up and his angel smiles down at him, his kind eyes sparkling. 

And he still can't look away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for not updating this yesterday!! i went on a surprise trip to the movies searching for inspiration (i found it) and then almost passed out before i got home, so i scratched down the ideas i had that the movie spurred and then promptly fell asleep :0 
> 
> and yes, another short chapter, because the next update is coming soon and i think it will make up for it <3


	7. chapter vi ;

_One month later._

"Checkmate."

The curve of Victor's lip is a picture of subdued triumph - muffled for Yuuri's sake, but not for long. He decisively sets down his queen, flicking Yuuri's king off the board so that it rolls into his lap.

Yuuri stares at him with a mixture of shock and horror. How is it that Victor has managed to win against him three times after learning it less than an hour ago? Yuuri is _good_  at chess, too.

Evidently, not as good as Victor.

He'd created a monster.

"Rematch!" The demand is cried before Yuuri even gives it a second thought, slamming his palms down on the table and making the entire chessboard rattle from the impact.

A month ago, Victor would have flinched or even hidden, but now he just tips his head back and laughs his chiming, sweet laugh. Hearing it is enough to set his heart into arrest. But it's so much nicer than hearing him cry, which Victor had done a lot of the month prior, even when he thought Yuuri wasn't listening.

A month. Has it really been that long since he found the malnourished, bruise-ridden boy alone in the snow in nothing but a hospital gown? It feels like so much less.

"Vic-chan, Yuu-chan, supper is ready!" His mother peers around the corner, as if she wasn't sitting there already eavesdropping and enjoying their youth not moments before, a smile on her fade that reaches her eyes. "It's your favorite, so hurry before it gets cold."

"Yes! Katsudon!" Yuuri leaps out of his chair, chess game forgotten, and Victor eagerly bounds after him. They quickly seat themselves at the table as Yuuri's mother sets down two bowls. Just looking at it has Yuuri's mouth watering expectantly.

Suddenly a finger jabs him in his soft belly, causing him to yelp before muffling it with a scowl and offended look cast at Victor, who blinks innocently. 

"What was that for?" His voice drops to a hissed whisper as his mother comes back around and sets his father's and sister's plates. "That hurt!"

As a reply, Victor pokes his gut again and lifts his eyebrows accusingly. Yuuri lets out a low, shocked gasp.

"Are you saying I'm fat?"

"No...." Victor smiles a cheeky smile, looking away and biting to keep from laughing.

Yuuri scowls and aims a whack on Victor's head, but Victor is already prepared and ducks before he even gets close, lunging for Yuuri's abdomen in retaliation. Devilish fingers snake up his sides beneath his shirt, dancing across the sensitive skin until Yuuri is squirming and begging for mercy.

"Stop - I can't breathe!" Yuuri is gasping in between giggles as Victor pounces on him, straddling his hips as he tickles up further, making Yuuri's shirt rise over his stomach. Yuuri is almost at his wits end when Victor suddenly blows on his belly and he's reduced to a laughing, convulsing mess.

Thoroughly satisfied with his work, Victor releases him and sits back on his haunches overtop of Yuuri, graciously allowing him to catch his breath. He brushes nonexistent dirt off of his shoulders, unarguably the Victor equivalent of a preen.

"Victor, you jerk! Not everyone is incapable of gaining weight no matter how much food they shovel in your face, unlike you." Yuuri sits up on his elbows with a playful grin. "You probably lose weight when you eat!"

"It goes to my muscles!" Victor flexes his skinny arm defensively, and Yuuri makes a big show of squinting and tilting his head, which earns him another series of tickles.

"No sitting on Yuuri!" Suddenly a pair of arms wraps around Victor's midsection and lifts him in the air, albeit kicking and whining complaints. Yuuri's father plops Victor back down in his own cushion and ruffles his hair with a grin. "Not until after dinner."

It should be impossible for Victor's hair to look flawless even when it's mussed up, but it does. He's probably a runaway model or something, seriously.

"But..." Victor stares dejectedly after Yuuri's father with a pout on his lips, but his complaint is interrupted by the doorbell ringing.

"I've got it!"

"No way!"

Both boys are springing out of their seats before the tone even finishes, scrambling over each other in a fight to get to the door - which Yuuri ultimately loses as Victor shoves his face into the carpet and mercilessly steps over him to swing the door open.

"Yuuko-chan!" Victor spreads his arms out wide and Yuuko doesn't hesitate to embrace him, lifting him up with ease (even though he's her height) and swinging him around with a gleeful cheer from Victor's mouth. When she sets him down she pokes his nose playfully.

"Vic-chan! How's my favorite skater been?" She glances over at Yuuri's dejected carcass and giggles. "It looks like you're keeping Yuuri in check! Remember, you can't trust boys."

"Yuuko, he's a boy too!" Yuuri shoots back, lifting his head and scowling. "And he should trust me more than any of you!"

"Hm?" Yuuko raises her eyebrows before looking back to Victor, whose eyes are wide. "Who do you trust more, Vic-chan, me or Yuuri?"

Silence stretches between them for the longest time as Victor's gaze dances between Yuuko and Yuuri, scrunching his nose in deep thought. Finally, he prances over to Yuuri's side and pulls him up, clinging to him. 

"I trust Yuuri!"

Yuuko opens her mouth and then closes it in shock before wiping a fake tear from her eye dramatically. "I... I see...."

Victor, stunned at her reaction, falters. "Yuuko-chan - "

"She's pullin' your leg," Takeshi says with a roll of his eyes as he finally strolls in, shutting the door behind him. He grins at Victor, who immediately brightens. "The ones you really shouldn't trust are girls. They use their emotions like weapons!"

Victor frowns, lost in thought, before Yuuri insistently tugs him back to the table. 

"C'mon, dinner's gonna get cold!" 

That's enough of a threat - all four of them eagerly plop down in their seats and join Yuuri's family in thanks before digging in. (Even though Yuuri ends up giving Victor half of his katsudon anyways, because he always eats as if he's ever going to see food again.)

By the time everyone has finished, all four of them are tying on their shoes and grabbing sweaters for the March breeze. Yuuri's mother watches them with her hands on her hips.

"You'll be back home before dark, right?" Her voice is worried, and Yuuri is grateful for her concern. He gives her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Yep! Don't worry about us," Yuuri assures her, skipping over to Victor's side, who is struggling with his jacket zipper. "We're just going to skate for a few hours."

Victor whines as he holds the ends of his jacket out to Yuuri, a pout growing on his face. Yuuri grins as he zips it up for him and even helps pull his hair out of it before practically dragging him out the door. "Bye, Mom!"

"Bye!" Victor echoes, bouncing after him. Once they catch up to Yuuko and Takeshi, Yuuri lets out a relieved sigh.

"She worries too much about us. I think she's afraid I'll move in to the skating rink."

Victor's eyes sparkle at the idea, and Yuuri spends the next twenty minutes shutting down that idea before they all lapse into a comfortable silence. After a few beats, Yuuko glances over her shoulder at him at Victor.

"Hey," she says, turning so she can walk backwards and talk at the same time. "Victor, how come your hair is so long?"

Victor blinks owlishly at her before glancing at his hair, tugging at it self-consciously. Yuuri leaps to his defense: "I like it long! It fits him better."

"But he looks like a girl," Yuuko insists. "People are going to get confused when he goes to school."

"There are uniforms," Yuuri protests. "Besides, my parents are probably going to home school him. I wanted to home school next year, too."

They both know what that means. Homeschooling is giving him more time to practice and test and prepare a program - time going to regular school wouldn't allow.

Yuuko's eyes widen to the size of saucers and she trips slightly in her surprise before grabbing Yuuri by the shoulders. "No way! Are you actually going to compete in the Junior Division next year?"

Yuuri nods, glancing at his hands. "I'd like to. I'm hoping to test for the Junior division, and then maybe...." He pauses with a sheepish shrug, looking up. "I don't want to get my hopes up, but it would he cool to try."

Yuuko stares at him, wide-eyed, before catching him a tight hug, her fingers gripping his arms too tightly. He feels a little stifled but accepts it anyways, albeit confusedly.

"I'm so happy!" When she pulls back, she's grinning so big it looks painful. "I was afraid you wouldn't get back into competitive skating after... what happened before. But you are! Which is awesome, because you're such a great skater."

"You're gushing," Yuuri murmurs, a blush painting his cheeks. Still, hearing her say it is a bit of a harsh reality: there is still the defeat he faced before, and a small but significant part of him is still afraid of the ice underneath of him. He's afraid of the fear that rose up before coming again to snatch him, to make him look like a fool.

Yuuri jumps a little when he feels a cold hand slip into his own, but he relaxes when he recognizes it and glances towards Victor with a little smile. Victor's eyes are earnest - they always are, two wide spans of the sky trapped within them that reflect everything they see. And Yuuri finds a little bit of strength there.

"I plan to work harder," Yuuri says as he returns his gaze to Yuuko, discreetly threading his fingers between Victor's so he doesn't let go. "Who knows? Maybe one day I'll make it to the Grand Prix Finals!" 

"Oh, don't get too cocky," Takeshi grumbles, and Yuuko giggles as well. Yuuri lets himself laugh, too, but Victor's hand tightening in his own is enough faith to make up for the flippant disregard - 

 _You can do anything_ , that's what it says. And to be frank, it's the first time he's ever even considered something like that.

* * *

"Victor," Yuuri says suddenly as he watches the silver-haired boy do loops around the rink, "have you ever considered pair skating?"

Victor skids to a halt in front of him, tilting his head. That's all the answer he needs, but Yuuri presses on, leaning over the edge of the rink and resting his chin on his folded arms.

"I think you'd be good at it." Yuuri smiles warmly. "You're skinny now, but once you grow you'll definitely get stronger. You could probably lift somebody, right?"

"Hmm." Victor frowns at the thought as he skates over to Yuuri and bends over the edge to grab a water bottle. He stares at the cap thoughtfully, nibbling on his lower lip, and Yuuri is once again blown away by how beautiful he is.

He wonders vaguely if these are normal thoughts. He never sees Yuuko or Takeshi marveling over him like he does. 

"Could I do it with you?" Victor looks up at him, then, and Yuuri has half the mind to feel guilty for staring when it suddenly strikes him as to what Victor just said. He straightens, furrowing his eyebrows.

"No... pair skating is between a man and woman," Yuuri says, frowning. He's never considered pair skating to be between two men or women, it's always been a man and woman. He's almost positive it's a rule, too.

"Oh." Victor sets the water down and flips his hair over his shoulder, passing a grin at him as he does so. "Then, no thanks."

And then he skates off to continue his loops.

"Wait - " Yuuri tries to call out to him, but Victor is already on the other side of the rink. Yuuri scowls at the evasive tactic and drops his chin on his forearms again, watching Victor as he tries different step sequences and maneuvers. 

_What on earth does he mean, no thanks? He barely even thought about it after I mentioned that._

Is it really because he refuses to pair skate with anyone other than him? The thought makes his insides feel warm - God knows why - but still, it's not what he expected. He supposes weight could be a factor in why they don't allow it, but at the same time, Victor weighs so much less than him, and Yuuri carries him piggyback all the time, so what's the difference?

"Yuuri," Yuuko sings as she skates over to him, tapping his forehead. "You look like you're about to bust a fuse. What were you and Victor talking about?"

He barely takes his eyes off of Victor as he mulls over it, before suddenly glancing up at Yuuko. Right, she would know!

"Yuuko, can two men pair skate together?"

"Wh - " Yuuko chokes. She literally chokes on her words, and has to take a moment to recover, her face red from exertion. And even then, she looks overwhelmed. 

"I'm sorry?"

"Like, competitively, has anyone ever pair skated as two men?" Yuuri doesn't understand why she looks like she's swallowed a fire pepper, but he passes it off as Yuuko being Yuuko. He sighs, looking back to Victor. "I told Victor he'd be good at pair skating since he's strong, but he basically said he wasn't interested when I told him he couldn't do it with me."

"I mean," Yuuko struggles for an answer as she kicks her skate on the ground, "I don't know? I've never heard of it here, and I think it's required internationally to be a man and a woman."

"Tch." Yuuri sighs and bumps the toe of his skates against the wall. "That's no fun."

"Well, doesn't that sound right to you?" Yuuko doesn't flinch as Yuuri glances at her in confusion. "That's how it always is - a man and a woman. Since the man is stronger, he can lift the girl and she is easily liftable."

Yuuri shrugs as he returns his gaze to Victor, but what she says next makes him flinch for a reason he doesn't fully understand - 

"I'd be kind of weirded out if it was any other way. It's just not normal."

"Thanks," Yuuri says, cutting the conversation short as he pushes off of the wall and skates out to join Victor. He doesn't understand the tug on his heart, the frustration building in his chest, but hopefully skating can ease it a little.

"Hey, Yuuri!" Yuuri glances over his shoulder at Yuuko's call. "Takeshi and I are going to head home now, since mom wants me to clean up my room and Takeshi lives near me so we walk together."

"Oh, alright!" Yuuri waves at her with a smile, the tension in his chest already fading. "See you tomorrow, Yuuko!"

"You, too. Bye Victor!"

Victor doesn't reply, and when Yuuri looks at him the other boy is flat on his butt, staring dejectedly at the ice. Yuuko laughs airily before she heads off to change, Takeshi in tow. Yuuri skates over to Victor's side and offers a hand, which Victor ignores.

Weird. Victor usually never rejects his offer to help him get back up. Victor brushes the ice from his legs stubbornly and skates away from him, less stable than usual.

"Hey," Yuuri calls out, but Victor ignores him, so he skates after him. "What's wrong? Are you feeling okay?"

Victor mutters something under his breath that Yuuri doesn't catch, and he sighs before relenting, watching Victor skate to the edge of the rink and start putting his blade guards on. Before Yuuri can ask where he's going, Victor has stomped off to the locker rooms. 

Definitely weird. Still, he doesn't have time to chase after him - if he's really going to pursue competing in the Junior level, he has to practice.

Especially his loops. Yuuri scowls at the thought but starts anyways, doing a few (non-jump) loops around the rink to gain a feel of it and a steady speed. He can feel every dip and edge in the ice under the blades of his skates. He's familiar with this rink. He breathes in, exhales, and then bends, feels the edge of his skate. 

The takeoff is perfect. And the land is almost just as perfect - he gets it where it needs to be, on the outside edge of his skate. But his other toe hits the ice again - so a toe loop. But at least he didn't fall. He keeps up the momentum, re-familiarizes himself with the ice.

This is his home rink. This is nothing compared to performing on freshly cleaned ice, surrounded by flashing lights and people and the silence before the music starts - 

He bends, takes off, and lands, but it's too steep and he once again re-familiarizes himself with the feeling of falling. He scrambles back to a standing position but the wound in his ego is already set - if he can't do it now just imagining a crowd of people, how on earth is he going to perform at the Junior Grand Prix?

No wonder Yuuko and Takeshi laughed at him. 

Yuuri sighs and does a few more attempts at the loop, and he lands a few successfully, but nowhere close to the amount he falls on or turns into toe loops. When he returns to the edge of the rink he's tired and annoyed with himself.

"Victor?" Yuuri peeks into the locker room, carrying his skates in one hand and expecting to find him sitting on the benches pouting, but instead it's empty. He frowns as he puts his skates away and changes, quickly returning to the rink and calling out to him. "Victor! Where'd you run off to?"

It's no good.

Anxiety begins to bubble in his chest. If Victor was mad at him, he would have come out by now, right? He usually forgets what he's mad about about ten minutes after it happens. 

"Victor, this isn't funny - "

_Bang._

He almost doesn't hear it - the sound is soft and muted. But it happens again: _bang. Bang._

The anxiety has given way to full-blown panic. Yuuri drops his backpack and runs towards the sound, which is coming from the staff room. The door is open - _Yuuko never leaves it open_ \- but the room is empty. 

_Bang._

The closet. The sound is coming from the storage closet. Yuuri freezes as soon as he remembers Victor's reaction to him trying to close the door to his room on the night he found him. _Oh, God._

Yuuri runs to the storage room as fast as his legs can take him and tries the door: it's unlocked, to his surprise. But when he opens it, he finds a sight that imprints itself on his mind for a long time.

Victor's in there, but he doesn't look anything like himself. He's curled in a tight ball, his frail arms wound around his legs and his head buried in them. His entire bidy shakes like a leaf, and the culprit of the banging is shown on his bruised fists - he must have been trapped from the inside. 

"Victor," he whispers, reaching out to him carefully. He doesn't get too close, afraid of scaring him, but he's close enough to let Victor know he's there. "Victor, can you hear me? I'm here - "

Victor glances up at him, and Yuuri is struck by how terrified he looks, his eyes wide amd unseeing, his face streaked with tears and red from crying. He looks like he's falling apart. Victor tenses, and Yuuri fears for a second that he's going to lash out or run away, but then Victor finally _looks_  at him and Yuuri has never felt as much relief in his life as he does when the light finally returns to his eyes.

Victor's hand reaches for him almost hesitantly, and his fingers brush over Yuuri's face as if testing for whether he's real or not, and just the simple action has Yuuri near tears himself as he catches Victor's hand in his own and presses it to his cheek.

"It's okay," Yuuri says, desperate to calm Victor down. "I'm here."

Victor lets out a quiet sob, and then he's hugging Yuuri, wrapping his arms around his neck and burying his tear-soaked face there as he starts crying in earnest. Just the the sound makes his heart break - he's heard Victor cry in his sleep, but never like this. He immediately winds his arms around Victor and lifts him onto the couch in the staff room so he isn't stiff like he was in the storage closet, and Victor refuses to let him go the whole time.

How had he even gotten in there in the first place? Yuuri doesn't know, and he isn't sure he wants to. He just wants Victor to stop crying - he can't deal with tears, not when they aren't his own. After a moment he rests his hand on Victor's head, runs his fingers through his hair cautiously.

It seems to work, because his sobs are reduced to soft cries. Victor's fingers still clutch at his shirt, but not as painfully tight, and he's at least breathing normally. 

Somehow they both end up lying down horizontally, with their legs intertwined and Victor's face buried in his neck, and even though he's stopped crying neither of them let go, because it simply feels _right_. Yuuri can smell Victor - he has his own unique smell, like the smell of morning dew in the middle of spring, and it's refreshing.

"Victor?" Yuuri speaks into the crown of his head, and his breath stirs the hair strands nearby. Victor snuggles closer in response, which Yuuri takes as affirmation, and he asks, "Why were you in there?"

It's a long time before he says anything, and when he does the words are small and weak. "I don't know."

Normally that kind of reply was an evasive one, but the way Victor's voice breaks gives away that he really doesn't know, and that's even more scary. Yuuri closes hisneyes as he falls silent again, pulling Victor close and stroking his hair until he calms down. 

He doesn't know how Victor ended up in there or why, but it feels suspiciously tied to the life Victor lived before this, and Yuuri can already feel a possessive anger rising up in his chest. Whoever hurt him, whoever did this to him would pay.

 _"Why do you care about him so much?"_  Yuuko asked him that about a week after the struggle to move Victor in had resolved, and it had nearly knocked Yuuri off his feet at the bluntness. _"He's just some strange kid you found outside."_

Yuuri didn't have an answer for her then, and he isn't sure he does now, but he can't just sit by while somebody else is in pain, especially somebody like Victor who is too kind and too gentle to ever deserve that kind of treatment.

"Don't worry," Yuuri says as Victor lifts his head to look at him. "I'll stay with you no matter what, okay? So don't ever feel like you're alone."

Victor stares at him for a moment, quiet, before a smile appears through his tear-soaked face and he nods, pressing their foreheads together. The proximity is dizzying, but this close Yuuri can see the flecks of green in his eyes, and he focuses on them.

"Thank you," Victor says with a smile. "Thank you, Yuuri."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOAH!! First of all I'm so sorry this is late, and I haven't been updating as frequently. I fought with this chapter for a long time and rewrote it three times before this one with different scenes, but this felt the most right. So I went with it. I hope it makes up for it, now I cam finally get the plot moving along, and the time skip will still take place in Chapter 10, so no worries. This time skip was just to establish a more solid time frame.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! As always, let me know what you thought and your predictions. :)
> 
> Edit: oh, by the way, that last episode? I'm still in tears. Things I never needed to see include Victor crying. I'm pretty sure every single skater cried in that episode. I cried. There was a lot of crying. Please come scream at or with me.


End file.
